The Romantic Interactions of Sirius and Hermione
by Joyous Abandonment
Summary: I wouldn’t have known. If not for the undeniable mop of bushy honey-colored hair, I wouldn’t have known. She looked…different. Very different." HGSB! The enticing storytelling of their romance! Was The Tale of Romantic Interactions Between SB & HG.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling.

**Okay, this is almost completely AU. It starts when Hermione is fifteen, however, the Triwizards Tournament never happened, nor the return of Voldemort. Good ol' Tom! So, technically it starts after third year, but she's older…very confusing stuff.**

Beauty Queen of Only…15!

I wouldn't have known. If not for the undeniable mop of bushy honey-colored hair, I wouldn't have known. She looked…different. Very different. She'd definitely grown, that was for sure.

The memory of her when she was just thirteen, when I'd first met her, in that awkward stage, was what kept me sane. Or what kept me from screaming out my love for her anyway. I felt pathetic. I mean, I was Sirius Black, the ultimate lady's man. Yet I fell in-love with someone. Not only that, but someone twenty years my junior.

When she first entered Grimmauld place, I didn't recognize her. Not only because of her red-rimmed eyes, still watery from poorly concealed tears. No, it was because she was no longer a little girl. I suppose I should have known they would all grow up at some point, but before I'd thought of her as my godson's best friend. As in, _not_ a candidate for a relationship.

The fact that she was to stay with Harry and I taunted me. The girl's parents had been murdered and I couldn't stop wondering if her lips were as soft as they looked. Oh, and the fact she constantly nibbled at them most definitely didn't help. She was irresistible in her own way, leaving me feeling guilty at my own thoughts. I never felt guilty!

Her romance with Ron nearly sent me over the edge. That was pure torture. It ended quickly however, and I thank the heavens for that everyday. It was a nauseating thought, them being together. I could barely stand it. The end of that little escapade was far from sweet unfortunately. It was finished officially when he was found in a broom cupboard with Luna Lovegood, though most would say it ended emotionally far before that.

I really and truly hate to admit it, but a few good things came from the discovery of Ronald Weasley's cheating ways.

One, she was single again, though I couldn't exactly make a move of any kind anyway. Imagine the uproar _that_ would cause. Harry would probably have a conniption. His surrogate father feeling up his best friend…oh yeah, real nice. But let's not get into that.

Two, the blinding red hair belonging to Ron was seen far and few in-between in Grimmauld. Though I hate to say it, I never did like him. His intentions always seemed a bit questionable. He was never as loyal a friend as Hermione to Harry.

Three, my Nirvana T-shirt was soaked through. Well, that's not exactly it. More like my Nirvana T-shirt was soaked through by a sobbing Hermione Granger. You have no idea how incredible it felt to hold her in my arms. Even if it was only until Harry took over, after he was finished punching Ron's face in. I swear, I think he still flinches whenever Harry moves his right hand.

I recall the look on Hermione's face was quite amusing when she first saw me wearing that shirt. Even though I never had anything against muggleborns, I suppose it was difficult to remember when that damn portrait was always screeching. I love muggle music. It's so much better. I mean, who wants to hear a song by a band called The Weird Sisters?

It's amazing to look back on things now. I feel so stupid for not picking up on the signs before I did. To think I used to be a girl magnet. I suppose prison will change things like that. Or at least that's what my excuse will be. Admitting I was stupid is much less fun than saying that Dementors sucked out my natural instincts when it came to women.

I really should be moving on from this topic though. If I linger too much all you people will think I'm some sort of freakish virgin who goes to comic book conventions!** (A.N. I mean no offense!)**

I really should be telling you the epic tale of our love right about now, but that would just ruin all the fun! A good storyteller doesn't leave out the suspense!

**Okay, so should I continue? Please R&R!**


	2. Beauty In The Breakdown

Disclaimer: Severus and Sirius would be alive and well if I was J

Disclaimer: Severus and Sirius would be alive and well if I was J.K. Rowling. Btw, I don't own the songs for each chapter title either.

**Okay, this is technically chapter 1. The previous one was kind of like a prologue. Thanks for reading!**

'Cause There's Beauty In The Breakdown

Red rimmed eyes focused solely on the full dinner plate in front of them. It was almost as if she was waiting for the steak to grow mold, or something. I watched as the pain became too much to hold back. She didn't want to show her weakness. Her anguish. Her tears.

I knew she had always been the strong, steady one of the three best friends. Harry was the heroic one. Ron was the silly one. She was the studious one who kept them together, heads rightly on their shoulders. Yet she never got any credit, did she? Nope, I knew damn well most people thought nothing more of her than being the bookworm sidekick.

Funny thing is, without her, my godson would probably be dead. Well, that's not really funny, but it's true. Harry had told me all about the basilisk in second year. How she figured out it was moving through the pipes. Spectacular. So bloody spectacular.

The both of them told me stories, actually. Hermione was excellent at filling me in on everything I'd missed in my godson's life. We'd kept up contact through owls, not only Harry, but Hermione too. Never Ron, though. Never Ron. He didn't really like me. Maybe it was a trust issue, I suppose. I was never really sure.

"May I be excused?" Hermione's crackly voice asked, interrupting my confounding train of thought. She hadn't spoken in days. I nodded briefly, almost distractedly, but my eyes never left her tearstained face. She was breaking down. Her guard would fall as soon as she was safely locked up in the room we had to drag her out of just minutes ago.

She hadn't eaten since she came to Grimmauld two days ago. I knew that for sure. The kitchen hadn't been entered at night, and she never left her room during the day. She was falling apart. Even if, in her current state of mind, she didn't know it, she was slowly letting herself die. Not only in the physical sense, but in spirit as well. I'd never seen her eyes so unbearably empty. Void of the excitement, and knowledge that previously vacated her chocolate pools.

Harry had knocked on her door so many times in the past forty-eight hours that it sounded like his steady rhythm was continuing in my head. We almost had to carry her out of her room for dinner. She had been lying in bed, eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling. When Harry finally convinced her to come downstairs to eat, she'd almost collapsed from exhaustion. Apparently food wasn't the only thing she was deprived of.

I stood up abruptly, realizing she might've fallen for all we knew. If she could barely get _down _the stairs, I doubted she could get _up_ the stairs.

Harry was now gazing at his pumpkin juice sadly. I'm sure he could probably feel the pain as well as she could. They were close. I was aware of that. I'd heard him call her the sister he never had many times. He might as well have been losing her, the way she'd been so distant.

"I'm going to make sure she made it upstairs all right." I said softly. He nodded subtly, but I saw it. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, fighting them back for his friend. He must've felt like one of them needed to be strong.

I picked up her full plate of food, before I let my feet guide me up the stairs without conscious thought.

I stood at her closed door a few minutes in indecision. I wasn't sure what to do. Go in? Go in after knocking? Talk to her through the door? I finally, after a good five minutes of inner turmoil, decided to knock, then go in.

My knuckles rapped against the wooden door, but there was no response. My eyes widened slightly, thinking that she'd possibly tripped and hit her head, and was now lying unconscious bleeding on the floor…or something of the sort. Because Sirius Black was _not_ a sissy. He would _not_ get worked up over something he didn't know for certain happened. He was far too masculine for that!

I turned the knob, and peeked in through the five or so inch crack. To my relief, though I'd prefer not to admit that, she was lying on her bed, again, staring at the ceiling. I entered, my shoes clomping as the floor switched from carpet to wood. Her eyes diverted for only a second, looking over at me, before resuming their gaze on the ceiling.

"Hi, Sirius." Her rough, unused voice said.

I smiled sadly at her, and though her head was tilted in the other direction, I knew she saw. I walked further into the room, finally taking a seat at the foot of her bed. I rested my hand on her ankle, my thumb rubbing a pattern I hoped was soothing.

"Hermione, love, I'm not going to say I'm sorry. You already know I am. But what I'm feeling isn't pity. Harry and I, both, know exactly how you feel. Well, not _exactly_…but, we know what it's like to lose people. You don't want people feeling sorry _for_ you, you want people to be sorry _with_ you. Babe, we both love you. We can practically feel your pain, and it's killing us. Seeing our strong, beautiful, Hermione Granger falling apart like this…it hurts us. Really."

"My parents always used to say I was beautiful." She choked out, "I always rolled my eyes, and made some joke about my hair, but they continued to say it. I never realized how much I would miss it. Knowing someone cared enough to notice a new haircut, or highlights or some such nonsense. They were what kept me going, you know? I'm the one who always kept Harry and Ron going, but my parents were what kept _me_ going. I don't know what I'll do without them."

Sobs shook her slim body, and she wrapped her arms around herself in a way of comfort. I moved forward on the bed, slightly, pulling her petite form onto my lap. Her face buried in my shirt, and I could feel the tears soaking through slightly. I whispered what I considered calming words into her ears, but her sobs only increased.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried, "I've been so horrible to you both since I came here. You were so kind to let me stay, and I've been a bloody nuisance. I'm so sorry…."

"You're not a nuisance, love. You're grieving. And you know you're always welcome here. We always have room for our little bookworm! No one else uses the library!" I joked. I felt her smile into my chest, and I was relieved that I'd lightened the mood slightly.

She pulled her head back, and looked up at me, "Thank you. I really needed that." She said her smile weak, and sad.

I nodded, "You also need food." I said firmly. I lifted her off my lap, and back onto the bed for a moment, before grabbing her plate off the nightstand and bringing it over to us.

"Open your mouth." I ordered. She obeyed, and I stuck a small bite of steak into her open mouth. I watched as she chewed, very slowly, and swallowed, albeit awkwardly. We continued this process with a few more bites, before stopping as per her request. I was sure her stomach couldn't handle much more anyway.

She said she wanted to lay down, and I asked if she wanted me to leave. I'll always remember the blush that graced her cheeks when she asked if I would hold her. I, of course, obliged, pulling her as close as I could without it seeming inappropriate. I was going to wait for her breathing to even, but my mind lost it's consciousness somewhere along the way.

The last I remember of that night was the door cracking slightly, and a small smile flitting across Harry's tired face as he watched us…

**Okay, that's the end. Please review!**


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